mother's day
by windfish
Summary: the once-ler gives his mother a cake, determined to make this mother's day the year she finally recognises his affection for her and makes her truly feel loved.


**author's note**: a little bit late for a lot of people reading this, but i was actually busy celebrating mother's day with my own mother... so, uh, sorry about the lateness! a quick little story that i couldn't get out of my head and had to consequently write, of course.

* * *

A ringing brought the Once-ler's eyes open, wincing at how painful it felt to even be awake this early- the sun hadn't risen yet, he didn't _have_ to be at the office today, but within two seconds of waking up, he gave a bright smile. _Mother's day_. And he finally had the money and the means to do something really special for his mother! He got out of bed quickly, pulling his pyjama top off as he unbuttoned it, throwing on a long white shirt. He decided against the vest for today- he unfolded a pink, frilled apron, folding it over his arm as he made his way down the hallway.

He lived in the factory, of course. It saved time on transport, it saved money on mortgages and taxes, and security was much more stringent when the millionaire himself slept within the factory walls. Behind his office was his bedroom, bathroom, and a small kitchenette- it was far from spacious, but there was a much larger kitchen and cafeteria downstairs, and his bedroom really only needed to contain his (California king-sized) four-post bed. Of course, it only _needed_ to contain his bed, and indeed contained a deluxe high-quality television entertainment system, a massive walk-in closet, and display case for his many awards and newspaper clippings of himself, as well. The kitchenette, in comparison, was small- the refrigerator was average, the microwave and stovetop nothing special other than being top of the line, and it was really quite modest next to the young entrepreneur's grandeur in every other aspect of his life.

Traipsing past the doors to his master bathroom, deciding to get to business before allowing himself to draw a bath and relax, the Once-ler opened the door to his kitchenette. He took out eggs, milk, butter, flour, and the other ingredients for the cake he'd been planning for nearly a week. He touched his touch-screen recipe selector deluxe, flicking through the recipes until he landed on the special recipe he'd found. It was very rich, but from all his research, it may have been very well the best cake ever. It required many ingredients and careful supervision, and it would take nearly three hours to complete, not including the intricate piping he'd planned to decorate with. A wide smile crossed his face, and he quickly set to work, thumbing through the recipe a few times to make absolutely sure it would be perfect. His mother deserved nothing less, after all. The skillful hands tying the apron behind his thin back only cemented his determination.

He sorted the ingredients into two equal piles (with truffula fruit replacing vanilla bean and milk in one pile) and a third, composed largely of eggs and sugar for the frosting, and set to work on making the four layers of cake he would need to make the best Mother's Day cake ever. The Once-ler carefully measured the proper amount of sugar and sifted the flour into the mixing bowl with the highest quality swomme swan eggs he could buy, yolk already removed and whisked to a light fluff. It was mixed with love and dedication, not a single drop of batter leaving the proximity of the bowl- he didn't trust machine implements to do what he could, and spent quite a large amount of time with his wooden spoon, turning and mixing oil and vanilla bean until the mixture was perfectly smooth. Carefully pouring the batter into his cake rings, he set them in the oven and set the timer to be precise- 427 degrees, no more, no less, and set to work on the next set of cakes. With a sigh of relief and four cakes in the oven, the Once-ler set to work on the buttercream frosting- it went by much quicker than he assumed it would, and he blamed in part his love of confectionary treats and general baking. A few drops of red food colouring gave it a beautiful thneed-pink shade, and he gave a satisfied laugh as the cakes were taken from the oven, perfectly cooked through.

Cutting the cake was much more difficult than he would have imagined- he measured each cake carefully and with upmost concentration, poking toothpicks in every inch and flinching as he brought the knife into the cake. He'd ended up with a wobbly layer or two, but the recipe assured him it would be fine- he didn't even _need_ one of the layers he cut, according to the recipe, and he layered the cut cakes, brushing a simple sugary syrup into the porous layers as he did so. He hoped his mother didn't mind the sweetness, though the truffula cake wasn't particularly sweet to begin with. The Once-ler applied frosting to each layer and around the perimeter of the cake before checking back to the recipe.

"Alright. Now I just need to move it to the fridge for an hour before I do anything else… hm, sounds like a good time to get that bath I've been wanting!" He laughed to himself, untying his apron and undressing himself before he even made it all the way to his bathroom. Warm water met his hand when he turned the faucet, and he smiled with great satisfaction as he immersed himself in the tub, fantasising about how _great_ his mother's cake would turn out. Surely she would smile and hug him and congratulate him for being her _favourite_ son, or just lean in and be brought to tears at the beautiful cake he would present her with. He glanced at the clock on the wall, giving a lazy grin at the seventh hour- it wasn't even six in the morning yet. His mother wouldn't wake up until eight thirty, giving him more than enough time to finish the cake and make himself presentable _and_ enjoy his well-deserved bath.

Keeping an eye on the clock, he let himself relax and wash himself thoroughly, drying himself with a thneed and giving a small spritz of his exclusive cologne line below his neck and to his wrists. He pulled his pyjama pants back on, pale yellow ducks smiling at him from a pink background despite the worn flannel, and he put his shirt back on as he pulled out a hairdryer, running it over his hair to dry it as well as he could. He gave himself a smile and a wink in the mirror before peeling himself away, pulling his apron back on and returning to the kitchen.

"Now, the hard part." He tapped twice on the touch screen to bring the recipe back up and take the application out of sleep mode. There was a complex diagram explaining how to cut out a cone, inverting the cake and applying one last layer to the bottom of the cake to bring the whole thing together. The young man swallowed back his nervousness and traced around the pan he'd placed on top of the cake, cutting into his creation with nothing more than the tip of a blade and holding his own breath. He was delighted to find the cake turned out perfectly, putting it back in his fridge and turning to scoop the crumbs and leftover layer of vanilla cake onto a cookie sheet. He toasted them, humming a happy tune to himself as he took the cake out half an hour later, frosting it and decorating it with the toasted vanilla cake crumbs, leaving a heart showing on the top. Sticking his tongue out a bit as he did so, he piped a very extravagant, flowing script into the heart- "I love you, Mom!" it said, in a flat purple icing, and he bordered the heart with sugared truffula tufts in a similar colour.

Regarding his work with pride, he transferred the cake to an intricate silver platter with truffula trees embossed into the fine metal. He set a cover over the cake and placed it down on the counter, leaving to dress himself in his best suit. It was only proper that he present himself as best as he could to his mother- she didn't deserve to see her grown son in pink duckie pyjamas, as she had put it herself. Besides, he thought to himself, he was told he looked quite dashing in his signature green suit, admiring himself in the mirror and frowning a bit as he noticed how the little bit of muscle he'd gained while away from home seemed to have all but disappeared. He shrugged, padding his shoulders just a little bit, and hoped it wouldn't be too obvious to anyone. "Not that they'd care," he quipped, making sure the crease in his trousers was even and aligned perfectly and that his tie was in no risk of losing its place under his waistcoat.

* * *

"Hello?" He knocked on the door with the back of his hand, clearing his throat. "Mom? It's me… um, Once?" He adjusted the bouquet in his hand nervously as he heard his mother approachin.

"What _is it_? It's eight in the mornin', Oncie, this better be good!" She groaned, hair still in curlers and night mask pulled up to her forehead. "What d'ya want?"

"Happy mother's day, mom, I… I wanted to come by and tell you I love you and I got you these flowers!" He fumbled, handing his mother the bouquet composed of her favourite flowers- lilies and sun flowers draped gracefully over red-pink tissue paper and cellophane. She gave him an incredulous glare, and he gave an anxious smile, waiting for some form of approval.

"I'm _allergic_ to lilies, Once, you oughta know that!" She snapped, thrusting the flowers back into his narrow chest.

"O-oh. Crap. Sorry. I know you were always saying tiger lilies were your favourite and everythin', I should have… I should have known, I really should have! That's why you always had them outside and never brought them in in a vase or anythin', I guess… Um, well, I mean, yeah that was stupid of me." He blushed, loosening his tie a little bit before rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, heck, the flowers weren't even the main thing. The real surprise is at the factory! The flowers were really to look pretty more than anything else so I guess- I guess they did the job pretty okay then! Anyway, um," He glanced over his mother, still in her morning robe and morning cigarette hanging out of her hand, not wearing her makeup or dressed in the least. "Do you… do you want me to wait while you get dressed? Or… or we can just go right now, no one will see us-"

"You think I'm gonna be headin' into the factory an hour before I'm supposed ta show up, Oncie? Now that ain't very fair to be expectin' from your momma on _Mother's Day_." She drawled, giving her son another disdainful stare. "I'll be at the factory when I'm supposed to. You ain't supposed to just ask me to show up like that… heck, if you really wanted to do me a favour for mother's day, you'd go and not make me show up at all! What son expects his own _mother_ to work for him? On a _Sunday_, of all things?"

"You- you're right, mom, it's just… well, look, I need to show you something really important at the factory this morning! When I'm done, I promise I'll let you go, okay?"

"You _better_ be promisin' that. Don't go around breakin' promises like you already done to my heart, Oncie. I don't think your momma can take much more disappointment." She closed the door in his face, and he flinched as his toes and nose got the brunt of the force. He sighed, making his way back to the factory, bouquet limp in his hand.

* * *

"_This_ is what you went an' woke me up early for, Once?" The woman nearly spat, looking at the cake as if it were the source of all the ill in her life. "Honey, you _know_ I'm on a diet. I can't eat this."

"No, it's okay! I looked up your diet online, and I made sure that it all worked out- I used fat-free milk and egg whites and each slice is only 200 calories, you could fit in a slice really easily-" The Once-ler shook, nervously trying to get his mother to at least _try_ the cake he'd spent most of his morning preparing. "It's made with truffula fruit, remember how those nutritional specialists went and looked at the details? They're really good for you, full of antioxidants and hardly any sugar or calories at all!"

"I didn't know you knew more about dieting than a _lady_ like myself would." The Once-ler's mother peered over her glasses to her son, bent at odd angles and sweating nervously. "You _know_ it makes your mother madder than a march hare when you go and show off that thin figure of you're in front of her! Don't you have the slightest bit of respect for me at all, Once?" She gave him a pout, and he felt himself shrinking back a bit.

"I can't really help it, I've- I've been trying to put on weight, I really have, I didn't mean to- I mean, I…" He straightened his back, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, Ma. I didn't mean to upset you. Can I… can I at least show you the inside of the cake? I spent a real long time on it this morning." He smiled a bit, shaking hand cutting into the confection, revealing a beautiful maze of pink-purple and white cake, wrapping over and around itself and neatly separated by a border of buttercream icing.

"What did you _do_ to the poor thing? It looks like a right mess!" She chirped, and he felt his smile go slack. "Maybe if you didn't spend all mornin' on… on _this_ abomination, you might have finished all that paperwork you were supposed to get done this week! Honestly, Oncie, I can't believe you, procrastinatin' and pretty much rubbin' your mother's face in her diet… you make me sicker than lookin' at that cake does! It coulda been alright if you didn't go and butcher it. Honey, you chop trees, you ain't some frou-frou fancy French chef. You best stick to pancakes and soup, I don't see you winnin' any awards for this _haute couture _cake business."

"I… sorry, Ma." He closed his mouth, drawing back with his hands to his chest, fingers fiddling with each other in sheer anxiety.

"Don't go apologisin' if you don't plan on stoppin' what you done wrong, Oncie."

"Right. Well… um, look, you don't have to do anything today. I just wanted you to come in so I could give you your um… well, what was going to be your cake. You can go back home." He winced as his mother gave a particularly nasty glare.

"You mean I got dressed and came out here because of your idiotic idea of a _prank_? You know what, don't even expect to see me tomorrow- I'm goin' home and I'm takin' my beauty sleep and I'm gonna take Monday off so I can get back on track with myself." She huffed, and marched out of the office, slamming the door behind her. The Once-ler cringed, making his way to the opposite side of his desk and throwing himself into his chair. He eyed the flowers in a vase on the corner of the desk with something of anger and turned away from them swiftly.

"You make this yerself, Beanpole?" The Lorax asked him, suddenly, and he looked up from his stupor to find the orange creature standing on his desk with cake in claw, inspecting the inner pattern. "This is pretty intricate!" He took a huge bite, mouthing around the cake with a wide grin under his mustache (which was decorated with bright pink frosting in an almost humourous juxtaposition). "Tastes great, too! What's the occasion?"

"…" The Once-ler stared at the guardian of the forest, trying his hardest not to snarl. So the Lorax couldn't read- big deal. Normally, he wouldn't mind, but it almost hurt to answer with a defeated, "It's Mother's Day. I made it for mom." He sighed, whispering under his breath. "She didn't like it quite as much as you did. Or. At all, really."

"She don't know what she's missin' out on!" The Lorax exclaimed, spitting strawberry and vanilla cake on his face as he swallowed.

"I'll be sure to tell her that when she feels like looking in my general direction again, _thanks_, Mustache." He droned, slumping in his arms as he tried to ignore the gleeful munching of the Lorax. "Look, can't you eat that somewhere else? Seriously, just take it. I don't want it, anyway." He groaned. "It looks… it's a trainwreck. I spent way too much time on it and it doesn't even look good."

"What're you talkin' about, beanpole? It looks amazin'!" More cake landed in his hair, and that was the last straw, standing up and looking down at the forest guardian.

"Just leave! I don't want you here, not right now, hell, you can come back with the whole forest in your little picket brigade or whatever tomorrow, but just _get out_."

"What was it you said to me? Newsflash, Beanpole, I'm not goin' anywhere." He smiled, licking icing off his hands. Noticing the still irate and nearly about to cry in frustration Once-ler, his smile fell. "… Actually, I'm gonna take a walk. You wanna come, too, Beanpole? Fresh air'll help you feel better."

"…" He was met with silence, and he shrugged. If he didn't want to take a walk, it was probably best he leave without antagonising the kid anymore- he could practically hear the screaming the boy was giving off inside, and he could always come back tomorrow to pester him about the broken promises.

"Suit yerself." He hopped off the desk, walking back toward the glass panes.

"Y… yeah." The response was barely audible, but the Lorax didn't turn to face him, simply leaving the balcony doors open as the lanky figure followed him out and down the stairs.

He heard the first sharp intake of breath at the bottom of the stairs, looking back to see the entrepreneur's gaze fall straight to the ground, fists clenched and body straight as a rod. Figuring the beanpole didn't want to be seen crying, the Lorax turned himself back forward and continued through the trees. He heard each inhalation and could feel the tears hitting the ground, starting to harden from pollution, but he kept himself quiet as they weaved in and out of trees. By the time they'd made it back to his office, the Once-ler had stopped crying, eyes red and puffy and really the only sign that he'd cried at all. They quietly made their way back to the desk, and the Lorax finally met the eyes of the Once-ler again. He gave the forest guardian a watery smile, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his glove.

* * *

The next time the Lorax visited, he'd noticed the calendar open to June, one particular sunday marked out in red marker with a large X. A bright orange circle had gone over the date twice since then, smudging the red ink- if he'd looked closer, he would have noticed the fine text stating that it was a holiday. Father's day, to be exact. And the orange circle- he couldn't help but wonder if it was an invitation. He figured he'd show up, anyway, since it didn't matter if he was invited or not- if it wasn't anything special, he could try to convince the kid about the forest again.


End file.
